


Ephebophilia

by Crystalwren



Series: Paraphilias and Other Compulsions [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ephebophilia, Forced Orgasm, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Multi, Paraphilia, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalwren/pseuds/Crystalwren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ephebophilia: definition: the primary or exclusive adult sexual interest in mid-to-late adolescents, generally ages 15 to 19." </p><p>John wishes to make a purchase. The seller's currency of choice is Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ephebophilia

**Author's Note:**

> No, seriously, this is a very dark fic.

_I want to hold you close_   
_Skin pressed against me tight_   
_Lie still, and close your eyes girl_   
_So lovely, it feels so right_

_I want to hold you close_   
_Soft breath, beating heart_   
_As I whisper in your ear_   
_I wanna fucking tear you apart_

\- 'Tear You Apart' by She Wants Revenge

 

The guy is making a lot of noise.

Sammy is face down against the table, trousers around his ankles. That stupid school tie is half off, his shirt rucked up his back. His hole is gaping and wet as the customer- Luke or Lake or something else with an L- slams in and out. Luke is a moaner and a howler and a grunter. He's clinging onto Sammy's hips, fingers digging in. Sammy's face is flushed, mouth swollen and red but he won't scream. He never does.

The woman with the camera is circling around. She's something of a pro. The camera is held absolutely steady and it's obvious that she's focusing on more than just the cock in Sammy's hole: Sammy's mouth, the customer's mouth, even the customer's own hole and dangling balls, the way the customer- Lang, is it?- is slamming so hard into Sammy that the rickety table is jumping slowly and steadily across the floor.

Wiry adolescent muscles straining, Sammy tries to brace himself, move into a more comfortable position, but the customer- Lane or Lenny, something with an L- grabs a handful of Sammy's stupid long hair, gives it a vicious yank and Sammy gives it up, stops moving, stays still even when the customer - Langer or Larry or whatever- leans forward and slobbers all over Sammy's face, licking at Sammy's mouth and sticking his tongue in Sammy's ear. And he keeps fucking and grunting and he looks almost like he's forgotten the camera, but he hasn't quite, because he never once gets in the way of the money shot: his cock in Sammy's hole.

Dean sighs, bored. Breaking into a high school to make a porno, like that isn't something that hasn't been done before. Putting blackout curtains over the windows before dressing Sammy up in some stupid Catholic school uniform and fucking him senseless over a table, yeah, like that's original. But these three, the woman, the other guy and the one screwing Sammy- oh god, what was his name again? Something starting with an L- have the books that John wants and this is what John's agreed for payment. And it's not like Sammy hasn't done it before. First time with a camera, though. Dean's seen it all before and he yawns, keeping one eye on Sammy and one eye on the corridor in case the janitor comes along. Shouldn't, he's been given enough money to keep away. And given that the security guard is the one holding the camera, there's really no chance they'll be caught. Still, watchfulness is always a good thing. Wouldn't want to have to skip town with CPS on their heels. Again. Sammy's legal in this state- barely, but legal is legal-, but CPS will chase you across the goddamn country if they get your scent.

The customer- whatever the hell his name is- keeps fucking Sammy, and he leans forward, bites Sammy hard on the neck. His jaw works, chewing at the skin and Sammy's hand spasms on the edge of the desk. "Come on," he hisses around Sammy's flesh," make some noise." But Sammy won't. He never does.

And the woman with the camera circles around.

The other guy, the short one with shoulders like tree trunks is just standing there watching. He's smiling. And beginning to give Dean the creeps.

The guy on top of Sammy is speeding up. Slap, slap, slap, flesh against flesh, and Sammy is clinging onto the edges of the table for dear life. "Oh god, oh fuck, you slut," the customer yells, and Dean rolls his eyes. Like that's never been said in a porno before. The woman dives in with her camera . The customer- name starting with an L- slams in once more and makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. He falls forward, limp against Sammy's back. He brings his arms about Sammy, hands shaking, and nuzzles against the back of Sammy's neck, stroking gently at Sammy's flanks. A soft murmur of, "That was amazing," and the customer stands up, pulls out. The camera swoops in again. Cum's tricking out of Sammy's abused hole, lots of it. It trickles down his perineum to drip off of his balls. The woman reaches out and slaps Sammy's buttock and obediently, he flexes his arse and thighs, forcing more out. The customer, name with an L, wanders away with a doped up grin on his face.

Camera woman kneels down behind Sammy. Dean thinks for a second that she's going to rim the boy, but she's more interested in making pretty patterns in the cum that keeps dripping out and sliding down his skin, all while she holds the camera with her other hand. It seems like there's nearly a gallon of the stuff and each flex of Sammy's buttocks and thighs makes more of it ooze out his hole. When it looks like the flow has finally stopped the woman slips her forefinger into Sammy and digs a little more out. Sammy twitches and breathes in sharply as her sticky finger slides out again, down, down, cupping his balls, tugging gently at the loose skin before giving his half-hard cock a nasty twist. Sammy draws a few short, hard breaths through his nose and satisfied, the woman gets up and steps back behind the third wall, wiping her hand absently on her jeans. And the other customer starts getting undressed, slowly, Dean knows his name as well as he knows his own or Sammy's; this guy's name is John.

The camera swoops in on John, who smirks as he performs a slow striptease. In the meantime Sammy stands up, stretches, tries to shake the knots from his spasming muscles. He knows better than to clean himself off. He kicks off his school uniform trousers, huffs at Dean in disgust and turns to glare at the wall. He always refuses to look at the customers afterwards. Dean had thought for a long time that it was because he was ashamed, but one day Sammy had said that it was because he didn't like looking at shit. And Dean had remembered suddenly, that all the times Sammy had seen him and Dad getting it on, he'd refused to look at either of them for days afterward. Dean sometimes wonders what Sammy thinks of him and Dad, but he knows that Sammy loves the both of them. They're all blood. The only family they've got is each other.

John finishes undressing. And that's when Dean gets a nasty shock.

The guy is hung. Not in a "wow, you're big," sort of way, or "dude, you're not going to fit," or even "hello there, Black Beauty!" the guy is _hung,_ he's thicker than Dean's wrist. And god, is Sammy about to enter into a world of hurt. Dean swallows, thinks hard about calling it all off. But over there in the corner, half-hidden from the clothes that the other customer, name of L, had flung there while he'd been getting undressed, is a satchel. And in it are three books, heavy, worn, and bound in human skin. And that's what it's all about, why Sammy is getting fucked silly on camera.

Dean wants to warn his brother, but it's risky enough that Sammy's being photographed. Sammy's name, Dean's voice, that's the sort of thing that'll get everyone arrested. And because Sammy has his back turned, Dean can't even make eye contact.

"Hey, kid," John says, and, as Sammy grudgingly turns around, the woman's camera is in position. A look of utter horror claws its way across Sammy's face as he sees the customer's dick. He looks frantically back at Dean, begging, but Dean can only close his eyes and shake his head. No way out. No way out for any of them.

John snickers. He steps towards Sammy, moving gracefully for such a heavy guy. Even though Sammy's already taller than him, weight for weight Sammy's just a feather. It's as clear as day that he's getting off on the smell of fear. But instead of violence, he touches Sammy with tenderness, gently, as though the boy is a treasured lover. A soft kiss on the corner of Sammy's mouth, even softer kisses on Sammy's eyelids. The whole thing is a horrible parody of love making and John knows it, he keeps sneaking sideways looks at the camera, smirking like he knows a secret that no one else does. Any moment now, any moment he's going to turn mean, get violent.

But he doesn't. He just keeps kissing Sammy like he's kissing the love of his life.

Sammy, for his part, is completely non-responsive. He doesn't even twitch when John drops to his knees, taking Sammy's soft dick in his mouth. And John gives it a good college try, he really does, but Dean could have told him that oral doesn't turn on Sammy on, it never has. It's just one of those things . John keeps it up until it's obvious that Sammy's not going to get it up, and something very, very ugly is slithering around behind his eyes. Dean has his hands on his piece without thinking about it, but even as angry as John is, he still doesn't lose his temper. The guy just stands back up again, and goes back to kissing Sammy's mouth.

Powerful hands glide up and down Sammy's spine, down, down, just skimming the tops of his buttocks before gliding up again. Small circles are rubbed underneath his shoulder blades. Soft kisses turn into gentle nibbles and the guy takes them lower and lower, over Sammy's collar bones to his sternum, level with the boy's nipples. And that's when John stumbles across Sammy's personalised erogenous zone: right there, dead centre of his chest. Bite there and Sammy will spend the rest of the day following you around like an overgrown puppy.

Sammy gasps. He throws his head back and comes very close to letting out a surprised moan. John bites a little harder, runs his palms down the outside of Sammy's thighs. And starts playing Sammy like a violin.

John moves lower. He doesn't bother with Sammy's dick. He tickles the back of Sammy's knee until the boy twitches his leg. It lets John in to suck on the inside of skinny adolescent thigh, to lick at the tacky residue of the other guy's cum. It should be gross but it isn't. It's hot, like watching two chicks and a guy go together, which bothers Dean a lot. Business is business and family is family, but when it comes to pleasure, Dean is strictly heterosexual.

A choked, grudging moan forces its way out of Sammy's mouth. There's an absolutely filthy leer on John's face as he licks every square centimetre of the inside of Sammy's thighs. There's a flush spreading across Sammy's cheeks and his dick is starting to get thicker too.

John stands. He pulls Sammy into his arms and nuzzles at the boy's hair like they're lovers. Just once, he makes a long, slow motion with his hips, grinding both of their dicks together and Sammy jerks like he wants more. The woman with the camera pauses briefly beside Dean and he catches a glimpse of what's on the screen: Sammy's mouth, swollen and wet under John's kisses.

Kisses and more kisses. Sammy is returning them. He wraps his arms around John's shoulders and gently but firmly, John pulls him down to the floor and flips him over onto his stomach. And of all things, gives him a massage, which makes him hump the floor.

John rocks back on his knees. He grabs Sammy by the elbows and lifts him bodily up and onto his lap. And, slowly and remorselessly, begins to enter him. Sammy twitches and jerks and whimpers. Each little movement lets more and more of John's huge dick force its way inside. Soft, it was huge. Hard, it's something out of the very worst of the pornos that Dean's ever seen. It's hurting Sammy but he's enjoying it too, his own dick so hard it's standing straight up. Finally it's all the way in, and Sammy is twitching, little gasps coming from his wet mouth. "You little whore," John croons, and Sammy's eyes snap open with a look of utter horror. "You little fucking slut, look at you, you love it, don't you? Watch the camera," he hisses, and Sammy starts to struggle. Too late because he starts to move and very quickly Sammy's reduced to hopeless twitches. Shallow thrusts and gentle hands. Sammy is whimpering, whimpering, drawing stuttering breaths, legs spread wide open so the woman can film John's dick going in and out, and the way Sammy's own dick is flushed dark red and erect.

The other guy- name with an L- sidles over to Dean. "Five hundred, cash, if you blow him."

Dean's disgusted. "Just what do you take me for?" He hisses.

"Someone who pimps out a kid and stands and watches him get fucked on camera."

Dean snarls. It's not like that. It's not like that at all. Name with an L looks at Dean's face and slips away.

If John were fucking, the spell would be broken. A dick that huge is going to hurt no matter how you use it, but gentle use is quickly reducing Sammy to a quivering mess. He makes a weak attempt to struggle but it gets him nowhere except lower. John's breath is stuttering, rough. He reaches for Sammy's dick and gives it a hard, fast pull, and Sammy comes with a groan like a sob.

That's never happened before. Sammy never makes a sound when he's with a customer, and he never comes either. And the woman with the camera presses zoom, and the guy with the name Dean can't remember is jerking off.

John still doesn't slow but he doesn't speed up either. Sammy stays hard as the woman hands over the camera over to name-with-an-L, who almost drops it before he realises that he can either wank or hold the camera but not at the same time. She strips off and strides towards Sammy and John. She parts her thighs with a wet smack and squats down. Every subtle movement of John's hips makes Sammy's dick bob and finally it moves into the perfect angle and slips inside. The woman throws her head back and laughs. John stops moving, leans back to brace himself. He lets the woman ride Sammy rough, hard, her frantic movements rocking Sammy's body up and down on John's dick. She's laughing, John's laughing with her, and Sammy is between them with a face full of tragedy.

Afterwards, after all the cum is cleaned up and Sammy is slowly, painfully, getting dressed in the corner, the woman turns off her camera and approaches Dean. "That was amazing," she says. She's hot, just Dean's type, but for some reason she makes his stomach turn and all he can do is give her a thin smile. "No, really," she continues, "It's never been as good as this, ever. You know, Daddy left me more books, you know. Like the ones your father wants." Cat-like, she tilts her head to the side. "There's a party on Friday night. You and your brother should come. Does either of you like dogs? Because John here breeds Great Danes."

If there were more books like Dad's just paid for, there's very little he wouldn't do to get his hands on them.

"We'll be in touch," Dean says.

The camera woman and John and the guy whose name Dean has just remembered- James! No L at all- gather their things and leave. Sammy is standing in the corner, his shoulders shaking.

"C'mon, Sammy, time we were leaving. What? What's the matter?"

Sammy is crying.

"Look, I know it hurt but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. And at least you got some puss-"

There's a sudden pain in his mouth and the taste of blood. This is because Sammy has just punched him, very hard.

"I fucking hate you," Sammy hisses, "I fucking hate _both_ of you."

He limps out of the classroom, leaving Dean to scramble after him.

"You don't mean that, Sammy."

 _"Fuck you!"_ Sammy screams.

 

 

**END**


End file.
